Symphonies
by perilousgard
Summary: Drabbles and one-shots about different characters and pairings. Mostly Mir/San. UPDATE: Soul of the Fire.
1. Taking the Fall

**Symphony**

**By Lily**

_Author's Notes: This is going to be an ongoing series of drabbles and short fics, many of which were written several years ago. Various pairings, various ratings. Enjoy!_

**Title: **Taking the Fall

**Rating: **PG

**Character/Pairing: **Miroku/Sango

**c. 2005**

There is blood on his arm. It turns his osode a shade darker. She knows she is to blame.

"I'm so sorry, Houshi-sama," she says. "Your arm—"

"It's fine, Sango." He is always so calm.

"No…Houshi-sama, if you had moved only a few spaces to the right, you would have—" Why does she feel like choking?

"It's fine, Sango. I saved you; that was what I was aiming for, was it not?"

She swallowed, closing her eyes. "That youkai claw could have pierced your heart."

He closed the distance between them, and slipped his arms around her, pulling her close to him.

"I'm not so sure it didn't."

-

-

_Haha, anyone recognize that last line? …I am sad._


	2. Sleepy

**Title: **Sleepy

**Rating: **PG

**Character/Pairing: **Miroku/Sango

**c. 2005**

They were enjoying the moment together, for once. His hand rested around her shoulders instead of on her bottom, and she sat near him, feeling warm and wonderfully content. The stars above them twinkled throughout the sky.

The monk gave a start as the woman beside him suddenly let out a wide, loud yawn. He chuckled, rubbing her shoulder.

"Are you sleepy, Sango?"

She nodded. "A bit."

He smiled. "Then sleep." With that, he pulled her closer so that her head was resting on his shoulder.

"But…Inuyasha and Kagome-chan will be back soon…"

"I will ask them to stay quiet, then. Sleep, Sango."

He knew she was only worried about what their companions would think when they returned to find her in such a position, so he was pleasantly surprised when she gave in. Already drifting off, she snuggled her cheek into the softness of his robes, closing her eyes and praying his hands wouldn't wander.

-

-


	3. Purple

**Title: **Purple

**Rating: **PG

**Character/Pairing: **General

**c. 2005**

The color of his eyes as he smiles, says something to make her laugh. Her face lights up, and he is happy, for it is rare that she is comfortable enough to laugh at him. He takes pleasure in the sound of her voice.

The color of the sky as she stares up at it, remembering a time when she had been truly happy. Her friends see her face and know she is thinking of her brother, somewhere far away, a boy who can't recognize her face. They turn away politely when they see the tears.

The color of Kagome's face as she yells, and Inuyasha falls to the ground. She is shaking with hurt and animosity, and all she wants to do is run away from him, hide at home as she usually does. But not today. Today she will face him down.

The color of the bruise on Shippou's knee, which Kagome will carefully kiss to make better. The small fox cub hugs her neck and tells her how wonderful she is, and she hugs him close, hoping that the end of their journey would not separate her from them.

The color of Sango's lips as she stubbornly pushes through the snow, trying once again to find that delinquent monk. She has convinced herself that he is in trouble, and the others ask no questions as she leaves. No questions are needed. They know what is in the taijiya's heart.

The color of loneliness, of fear, of passion, of obsession.

The color is purple.

-

-

-

_Bleh._


	4. Nightmare

**Title: **Nightmare

**Character/Pairing: **Sango, Miroku/Sango

**Rating: **PG-13

**c. 2005**

_Blood. It drips sickeningly from the wound in her back in a steady stream, pooling around her. She turns around, to try and rip the sharp blade out of her body, but freezes when she sees him. His eyes are sightless. His motions are methodical, demonic in their precision and fluidity._

_She wants to scream. __**Stop. Stop hurting him. Stop hurting **__me!_

**You will not interfere, bitch.**

_She falls to her knees, trying to block out his voice. __**Let him go.**_

**Your wish is futile. He will die as soon as he kills you.**

_**Bastard!**_

**I am flattered, my dear Sango.**

_And there is so much blood, clogging her nose and mouth, drowning her in that metallic scent. She tries to breathe, but gasps, the thick liquid bubbling on her lips. And the voice laughs, and laughs and laughs._

_The last thing she sees is her brother's face._

_-_

_-_

"Kohaku!" She bursts from her bed, white tears flying from her face. Across from her, a monk stirs, from where he was only dozing. His voice is hoarse as he calls softly out to her.

"Sango, are you all right?"

And he kicks himself, because, no, she is not all right, because she is whimpering and crying and she is never happy when her brother is mentioned. And so he crawls over to her, carefully leading her back to his bedroll. He lies down and pulls her down beside him. When she begins to mumble protests into his robes, he kisses her hair and quiets her.

She falls asleep to the rhythm of his breathing, and no more nightmares come to her.


	5. Utsukushii

**Title: **Utsukushii

**Character/Pairing: **Miroku/Sango

**Rating: **PG

**c. 2006, revised 2009**

Miroku had known many women. All his friends knew that. He had been something of a rogue before they all met, of course. From what they had learned of Miroku, he had started traveling on his own at roughly fourteen. Five years later, he had run into Inuyasha and tried to kidnap Kagome. In that time, he had tasted a dozen flavors of sake, conned more than a handful of villages, played tricks, stolen, and had all a manner of women.

They had to make assumptions about Miroku. He was dishonest. He wasn't the most virginal of men. He wasn't very pious. But he fought admittedly well, and made a good addition to their team. There was just a softer, deeper side to him that they hadn't seen yet.

Miroku didn't like to share his past, and they respected him for that.

But fear made people do very strange things.

Inuyasha's group had had dealings with the cursed hand before. Not too long after the sad, strong huntress joined their ragtag team, his hand had been cut by a praying mantis' claw. That was the first time that they learned that beneath his smiles and jokes, there was actually fear inside of him. They all learned something about him that day, but they didn't ask him to speak of it, and so he didn't. Instead, he masked his feelings by running his hand along a certain taijiya's bottom.

That was just Miroku's way, for a long time.

Since then, Miroku had never run off without telling them. They thought he knew better by now.

And so, when Kagome woke one night and found him missing, she woke the others up in her alarm.

Inuyasha cursed, and Shippou was childishly curious. Sango was worried. In the end, Kagome let the taijiya go look for him, since she had a feeling that maybe she knew him best. Sango was strictly mission-mode as she hopped astride Kirara, and the firecat took to the skies.

It didn't take long for her to find him. He had only gone a short distance into the forest. Just enough that he wouldn't endanger them if…

Sango shook her head. She didn't even like to think the words.

Unsurprisingly, he heard her soft footsteps approach him. His hearing was nothing to laugh at.

"Houshi-sama? Is it…is it your hand?"

He nodded, staring down at the purple cloth that covered the void. "I felt it…stretch. It's never been so noticeable before and I…," he took a breath, "I just thought it…but it didn't. It was just moving. Growing."

Sango took a step toward him, trying to ignore the morbid curiosity she heard in his voice.

"My birthday was a few days ago. I suppose it knows that another year's passed, that it'll grow even more next year and maybe swallow me. Maybe even now, it's planning on killing me when I go to sleep tonight, back at camp."

Sango was torn by his words. She walked around so that she could look into his face, and reached out hesitantly for his hand, the left one. She did not dare touch that most sensitive part of him, especially not at a time like this. "Maybe we should visit Mushin-sama?"

He shook his head. "It would do little good. Mushin-sama knows no more about how to measure my time than I do. Only Naraku knows, and perhaps he's watching us now, smiling to himself because he knows the exact day I will die."

Sango's grip on his hand tightened. "Please stop talking like that, Houshi-sama."

He blinked, as if he hadn't even noticed her presence. "I'm sorry, Sango. It's just that despite how I've tried to make the most out of the time I have, I've done a perfectly terrible job of it. I can't remember specific dates or events, even the name of someone who was kind to me."

"Surely you remember something," Sango said. "Or someone. Don't you remember any of the multitudes of women you've shared a bed with?" Her mouth twisted, her voice becoming a little sarcastic.

He caught her attempt to lighten the mood and curled his fingers lightly through hers, giving her that grin she knew so well. "Ah, I do admit that I don't remember a lot of them. A few stand out in my mind, here and there. I can remember a scent or a texture of skin, but no names. I can remember the girl I met just before I met Inuyasha, for example. She always smelled like plum blossoms and giggled when I tickled her stomach. She was too innocent, though. I never took her to my bed."

Sango blushed slightly, but smiled. "Was she pretty?"

"She was." A thought struck him. "Are you jealous?"

She shook her head quickly, letting go of his hands. "I just wonder. I mean, you only go for the pretty ones, right? Sometimes I wonder what would have become of us if you hadn't found me pretty."

Miroku laughed, taking her other hand. "Sango," he said, his eyes twinkling, "you are more than pretty. So much more. You are smart, and headstrong, and brave, and sad, and mysterious. You are beautiful."

Sango snorted. "You've probably said that to every woman you've met."

He shook his head in earnest. "No. Not once. I never got the chance to. I mean it, Sango. And don't just think I say this because I admire your physical attributes. When I say you are beautiful, it is because everything about you attracts me, and I'm afraid of what that might come to mean."

And Sango, shy and beautiful Sango, turned a shy and beautiful shade of red.

"Don't worry about what it might come to mean, Houshi-sama. You think too much."

"And what about you, Sango?" Miroku carefully moved a piece of her hair behind her ear. "Don't you have things to worry about as well?"

Sango's eyes clouded briefly, thinking of her brother. "Of course I do," she said, "and of course I worry. Don't think that I haven't tried to stop myself from…becoming too attached to you."

Miroku smiled, warmed by that last comment. "I think you're the pot calling the kettle black, Sango," he teased.

She shoved at him playfully. "I think we should get back to camp, Houshi-sama." She turned, preparing to get back on Kirara, when Miroku caught her hand again.

"I'll try not to worry if you do, Sango."

She turned that shy smile on him again, leading him to Kirara. "I think I can do that, Houshi-sama."

It was only after they got back to camp and sat down for supper that Miroku realized he'd forgotten to grope her.

He had a feeling she would have hit him harder than usual, anyway.

-

-

-

_The title means "beautiful". _


	6. Dark

**Title: **Dark

**Character/Pairing: **Kagome, implied IYK

**Rating: **PG

**C. 2006**

When she was little, Kagome had been very afraid of the dark.

The dark was consuming and pressing, and no matter how high she pulled up her covers, the dark was there, like a monster. So many things could hide there in the blackness, things she couldn't see in the light. Things waiting to devour her.

Her mother came in at her first cry, smoothing her hair back and singing her lullabies until she fell asleep. She gave Kagome stuffed animals and nightlights, and left the door cracked with the hall light on.

But Kagome was still afraid of the dark.

Eight years later, she fell down the well. Into darkness.

She rescued a hostile hanyou, fought demons, resisted evil spells, and escaped kidnappers, but Kagome was still afraid of the dark.

This time, there were no nightlights or cracked doors. The darkness was real, and monsters did live in it. For this reason, Kagome slept close to the fire those first few months with Inuyasha.

She fought hard, and gained new friends, and sometimes she was too tired to worry about the dark. She was comforted by Shippou's warm breath against her cheek, by the sight of Kirara across from her, and by the soft crackle of the fire.

It was a long time before Kagome realized that Inuyasha rarely slept, that he spent his nights watching over her and her friends. One night she'd bolted up from a nightmare, her eyes automatically finding his spot in the tree. She found his golden eyes looking right back at her.

_Do you not sleep, Inuyasha?_

_Keh. Someone's got to watch over you weak humans._

Kagome slept easier with the knowledge that Inuyasha watched over her. But she was still afraid of the dark.

-

-

-

_Hey, IYK can be cute sometimes. _:P


	7. Future

**Title: **Future

**Character/Pairing: **Kagome, implied IYK

**Rating: **PG

**c. 2006**

It was always back in her era, back where she had come from. She talked as though she came from the past, not the future.

It didn't matter how she spoke of it, because when Kagome went home, the facts were like a thorn in her side.

No matter how many times she went down the well, no matter how many times she fought Naraku, Kagome was separated from her friends by a significant five hundred years.

Sometimes, this bothered Kagome more than she let on. It was always when she went home that she thought about it most; the fact that maybe she wasn't ever happy with Inuyasha because she was from this time.

No, that wasn't right. She was happy with him, a lot of the time. It was normally only when Kikyou came into the picture that her mood was spoiled. She knew that he favored the dead miko over her. Was it fate, and not just him being stupid? What if it was really meant to be this way?

Kagome didn't fit into the feudal period. At every village they stopped at, whispers followed her. They asked about the girl in the strange clothes. Was she dangerous? Most assumed her to be a miko automatically, but Kagome was never quite sure as to how they reached this decision. Maybe it was the bow and arrows.

Maybe she had brought bad karma upon herself. After all, she'd taken a lot of things from her time through the well. Shampoo, chips, toys for Shippou. Maybe she had angered Father Time. He might have decided to curse her.

Kagome had never understood curses, not really. She always trusted in Inuyasha to save her when she was in trouble or under the control of a spirit. He'd done so multiple times.

But Inuyasha wasn't there the day the well sealed itself, and Kagome cried at the bottom until it was dark and her mother came looking for her.

She belonged in the present.


	8. Trip

**Title: **Trip

**Character/Pairing: **Miroku/Sango

**Rating: **PG

**c. 2005**

It was a beautiful day. Inuyasha and company were taking a break, here next to the stream where Shippou played. Warm wind tousled their hair and caused inevitable smiles to brighten their faces. For the moment, there was peace.

Inuyasha and Kagome were down the riverbank, fishing for supper. Sango sat upstream, plucking at the flowers as she listened to the two of them argue. Kirara sat in her lap, mewing when her mistress would stroke her.

Sango was thinking vaguely of falling asleep when she heard footsteps behind her. She didn't need to turn around; the telltale clink of the rings on his staff gave him away.

"Houshi-sama," she murmured.

"Sango," he returned. "May I ask a favor of you?"

She turned to face him then, finding that he looked unusually grave. "I suppose, Houshi-sama. What is it?"

"I'd like to borrow Kirara for a few days."

She blinked. "Why?"

His gaze traveled fleetingly to his right hand. Sango felt a sudden alarm go off in her head. "Houshi-sama?"

"I need Mushin-sama to check the wind tunnel," he said, his gaze leveling with hers. "It's been hurting the past few nights, and I think—" He paused, words failing him momentarily. "I think it might be close."

Sango rose slowly, one hand fisted to her hammering heart. "Houshi-sama, don't—don't think like that. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it means something else—"

"Sango, Mushin-sama told me the last time that I visited that I probably wouldn't live to the end of the year. You see, the wind tunnel consumes each generation more quickly, and my father was barely twenty-five—"

Sango sucked in her breath. "No," she whispered.

"I'm sorry," he said simply.

She felt her throat getting thick and swallowed rapidly. "How long? Do you think Mushin-sama's prediction is correct? How much time do you have?"

"I don't know," Miroku responded quietly.

"Enough time that we could defeat Naraku, right? Enough time for us to save you."

"I don't know," he repeated, looking pained. His eyes, which had traveled to the ground, suddenly went back to her. "Please, Sango, don't look like that."

She caught herself just in time, scrubbing away non-existent tears with her sleeve. She would not cry. She didn't want him to see her cry.

"Sango," he prompted softly, "Kirara?"

"Right." Stiffening her resolve, the taijiya picked up her neko-youkai companion and sent her to Miroku, who nodded in thanks.

"Goodbye, Sango."

"Wait!" she found herself calling. As he turned around, she walked over and embraced him tightly. "Promise me you'll come back," she said, the words muffled against his chest.

"Sango…"

"Promise me!"

His arm rose slowly and he pressed his hand to her back, drawing her closer. He closed his eyes as his lips collided with her forehead, and took in the scent of her hair. She smelled of rain and daisies, and of Kagome's shampoo.

"I promise."

-

-

-

_Oh noes! Teh angst!_


	9. Beloved

**Title: **Beloved

**Character/Pairing: **_Crack warning! _Kagome/Sango

**Rating: **PG-13

**c. 2006**

From her position on Inuyasha, Kagome glanced to the side and watched Kirara fly through the air, her two friends on the nekomata's back.

More specifically, her eyes focused on Sango. The huntress seemed slightly sad, as she usually did, but her face was radiant in the sunlight and her hair whipped behind her like a banner. She was looking exceptionally well this morning.

Her eyes flickered to Miroku, her fiancée. His shakujou was locked protectively around Sango's middle, as he had grown accustomed to doing. She had always liked Miroku, really. Even if it took her awhile to trust him, she had always liked his companionship. He was kind and he respected her, at least as far as she could tell.

But he always got to ride that damn firecat.

Inuyasha's movements jostled her. His hair flew into her face and mouth, and his claws dug into the undersides of her legs. He got sweaty when he was running, and his hands slipped over her skin.

Kagome thought of sitting behind Sango on Kirara, the wind blowing freely through her hair. Sango's hair might whip her face, but it would smell pleasantly of Kagome's shampoo and other, wild things, clover maybe. Kagome's hands would replace Miroku's shakujou, for she knew Sango would never be suspecting of her female companion.

Kagome had not given her reason for suspicion. If the taijiya knew what Kagome thought of, behind those pretty blue eyes of hers, she would more than welcome the monk's ceaseless groping.

But Kagome could be the one to catch Sango when she fell, and hold her when she cried, and soothe her when she had nightmares. She could be a best friend.

All Kagome would get were the phantom-kisses that came with her dreams, and the fire that filled her upon waking. All she could do was clench her teeth and her legs together and hope Inuyasha wouldn't smell her arousal. All she could do was admire when they took their bath, and tint her world green when she thought of the monk.

Kagome could understand the young girl Koharu's plight very easily. Unrequited love was a painful thing indeed.

-

-

-

_Muahahaha._


	10. Feelings

**Title: **Feelings

**Rating: **PG-13 (for suggestive sexual situations)

**c. 2005, edit 2010 **

*****This was inspired by Mikaila's art on Kumo no Su. If you're familiar with it, it should become pretty clear as you read.

His arms were around her, and she craned her neck, offering him a throat he couldn't help but lavish. His lips trailed small, nibbling kisses up to her ear, his hand tangling in her loose hair. His legs twined with hers in his kesa, softening the table that was their bed. Their clothes, their hair mingled with paintbrushes, inks, and papers, and the smell of old books. She gasped as her yukata fell open and his lips traveled down her collarbone. She wanted to stop him, to push him and his troublesome lips away, but she found she could only press her lips to his jaw, wrap her arms around his neck, and fumble with the knots on his robes.

_I want to share all things with you._

She caught her breath as his hand, followed by his mouth, found her breasts. _We shouldn't be doing this._

_I don't care. _

_What if—_

_I don't want to leave you behind. But I am scared of this, Sango. Of us._

Her nails dug into his back as she gave in to his impassioned advances, kissing him desperately.

_It feels like the universe, when we move like this. _

_You are trembling._

_I love you._

She would be with him in the end. The kazaana sealed her fate just as surely as it sealed his.


	11. Possession

**Title: **Possession

**Character/Pairing: **Miroku/Sango

**Rating: **PG-13 for blood I suppose

**c. 2005**

The first time Sango ever saw Miroku possessed by a demon, she was almost sick with fear.

He stood there on the moonlit field facing her, his legs apart and his staff held horizontal away from his body. His gaze was locked on her, and his eyes were full of such evil that a shiver ran from her head to her toes. It was similar to the time he had been controlled by Shyuga-baba, only then his eyes did not glow red and he did not look at her so hatefully, as if he wanted to rip her apart and eat her insides. But Sango was strong. Sango could fight him even under that gaze and not be distracted by it. But that was not what scared her.

What scared her was that Miroku had been possessed by a real ghost, and it would have taken a lot of spiritual energy to overcome his control.

And now he wanted to kill her.

But Sango would stand and fight. She was already drawing her wakizashi, gripping it between sweaty fingers. After all, not long ago they stood just like this, facing each other in a duel to the death. Then it had been Sango who was possessed, but Sango was not trained to be able to fight in such a manner. And so she was made into a steel-tempered enemy, capable of killing him, and he still came for her. He still fought for her even though she could have killed him.

And now she would fight for him. She would fight to get her Houshi-sama back.

She raised her sword as he came at her with his staff, intending to give her a blow to the stomach. Sango swung her blade upwards, the metal upon metal jarring her arm. Miroku swung downwards and ripped the sword away from her hand before he knocked her off her feet.

The pain was exquisite. Blood surged up her throat and stained her lips. She was sure he had torn something. Sango looked up as Miroku loomed above her, raising his staff to impale her upon it.

She rolled out of the way just in time, swinging by her wakizashi. She stood up across from him, waiting as he turned to pierce her with that frightening gaze once more.

They came at each other again. Miroku got another punch, startling her, and she heaved again. The sharp-edged end of his staff cut her cheek open. Sango dropped her sword again in surprise, trying to clear the blood away from her eyelashes. She drove at Miroku with her fists, but he caught them before she could make contact and forced them away. Twice Sango stumbled, and was barely able to regain her footing before Miroku stabbed her with his shakujou.

Finally, sobs tearing themselves from her throat, Sango threw herself at the monk, embracing him tightly. The tears dampened the front of his robes. "Don't you dare give up, Houshi-sama," she whispered fiercely. "Come back to me. I need you here."

She could feel his hands rising behind her, could see the blade of her own weapon twinkling out of the corner of her eye. Quickly, Sango reached into the front of his robes and ripped out one of his sealing charms. She had seen him use them many times before, and thought maybe she could use them correctly. Mumbling a quick prayer, she flung the exorcism paper at the monk's chest, at the same time as her wakizashi plunged into her back.

Black spots blocked her vision, and the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was the satisfied grin on his face.

-

-

-

Miroku stepped into the hut quietly, just in case she was asleep.

But she was sitting up, her yukata slipping halfway off her shoulders. He could see the bloodstained bandages wrapped around her back. Her head was bowed, her hair unbound and hiding her face. He sat down beside her, and she did not look up.

"Sango," he started. She didn't respond. "Sango, you should be resting."

"I'm fine, Houshi-sama," she said. "Just a few scratches."

He frowned. "Sango, I could have killed you."

"But you didn't, Houshi-sama. I'm fine."

He sighed. "Would you at least let me change your bandages?"

After a moment, she nodded, and moved her hair aside so that he could get to her injury.

He unwound the bandages gently, and hissed in surprise. There was a gaping wound in the middle of her back, in the same place, Miroku realized with horror, as the scar she had received from Kohaku. He stared at her for a long moment.

"What's the matter, Houshi-sama?"

"Sango, you must be very angry with me," Miroku told her.

"I'm not angry. I'm just glad I was able to save you in time."

Miroku clenched his fists. "You are too forgiving. I have hurt you so badly, and you don't strike me?"

"Of course not," she said vehemently, turning to face him. "It's not your fault, Houshi-sama. You were being controlled. I saved you because you saved me. It's only fair, isn't it?" She swallowed as he gently turned her back around to replace her bandages with fresh ones. "Besides, I…I need you here with me."

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and brought her back to rest against him. She could feel his heart beating strong and hard against her back, and pressed her face softly into his arm. _He's alive. _

"Thank you," he whispered into her hair.

She smiled, and noticed that the dull pain she had been feeling had vanished.

-

-

-


	12. Cadence

**Cadence**

At night, after they make love, Miroku holds Sango until she falls asleep.

After she has done, he is content to watch her. A soft smile curves his lips as he runs his hands lightly through her soft hair, brushing it away so he can look at her face. Her eyelashes are dark against her cheeks. Her lips are slightly parted as she breathes against his bare skin.

In…out…in…out…

Miroku has never been this close to her before, close enough to count the beats of silence between each breath.

Pulling her closer, he is lulled to sleep by her lullaby.

-

-

_This one was written for the community mirsan_fics on LiveJournal. The prompt was "Breath", 100 words only._


	13. Soul of the Fire

**Soul of the Fire**

Sango is a very spirited, energetic woman, which is part of the reason why I took an immediate liking to her.

She has passion. The first time I saw her fight, it nearly took my breath away. She was relentless, and she faced her opponent without a trace of fear. Behind her protective mask, her eyes were hard as diamonds and sparking with anger. Each move she made was precise and thought out, and she handled her massive weapon as if it weighed nothing. Despite the situation, I found myself admiring the way her body moved inside her skintight leather.

She has fire. I love seeing that in her. I love being the one to spark it in her. I had seen it, the very first time I had laid my hands on her in an entirely inappropriate manner—that spark in her eyes. The more I touched her, the more I fanned the flames. When I flirted with other women, the fire became a burning blaze.

Sango's heart had been forged in the fire that crackled in her soul. It roared to life when I came close, warning me to back off before I got burned.

The problem is, I don't really mind a little pain.

_Was going to be an entry for the prompt "Spirit" at mirsan_fics. It was too short, but I liked it the way it was. So I wrote something else and kept this like it is. _

_PS- Kinda stole the title from a Terry Goodkind book. Sorry._


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